


Three Emoji Hearts Totally Equals True Love

by lielabell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Humor, BDSM, Long and Complicated, M/M, Online Relationship, ploy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a week since Stiles had his moment of epiphany.  A week of late night chats and silly snaps and watching a couple horror movies on Netflix together, exchanging commentary throughout and then hotly debating the deeper meaning of the films after.    A pretty awesome week, actually, which only cements Stiles’s belief that they are em-eff-ee-oh in a big, big way.  </p>
<p>All that needs to happen is, well, him manning up a bit and taking it to the next level.  Which would be totally easy if it wasn’t so fucking terrifying because what if Stiles is all “yo, hearts you lots bb” and theDomlyDom goes “no romo” back?  </p>
<p>What then?</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Or the one where Stiles and Derek are internet besties who might, maybe be in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Emoji Hearts Totally Equals True Love

Part One

Stiles isn’t his best in the mornings. He just isn’t. He can be up and functioning and all, but higher brain function? Not so much. Which is why he always starts his mornings nice and slow with an hour of wallowing on the couch, if it’s a weekend, with his laptop warming his lap and a cup of something strong and black warming his hands.

It’s a pretty good method for not killing anyone, Stiles thinks; a perfectly stellar way to transition from sleepy Stiles to regular Stiles. The only problem is, sleepy Stiles? He just sort of reacts without thinking. Which is why, when Stiles is blearily staring at the contents of his inbox and a new Viber message pops up from theDomlyDom, who Stiles might or might not be engaging in a mild internet flirtation with, replying to Stiles’s whine about editing the query he’s working on with the following:

**theDomlyDom:** _In sql? I know sql_  
 **theDomlyDom:** _I'll do it for you, sit back_  
 **theDomlyDom:** _Select data_that_makes_us_look_good from tbl_random_data where data_integrity = "unknown" order by best asc_  
 **theDomlyDom:** _There, problem solved._  
 **theDomlyDom:** _You can take a break now. :D_

Stiles can't help but say, "Oh my god, I think I’m in love with him,” outloud.

Which, of course, earns a scoff from Isaac. “This about your internet crush again?”

“Yeah, of course. Who else would I love?”

Isaac scoffs again. “I don’t know, someone you actually see in real life?”

“No, dude, no one I know in real life is as awesome as the Dee is. He’s amazing. The most amazing thing ever. And I love him.”

"You don't love him," Isaac replies, sounding exasperated. "You don't even know him."

Stiles snorts. "Don't know him?" He frowns over at Isaac, who is on the far couch flipping through a magazine. "Don't know him?" he says again, voice going high with agitation. "I talk to him _non-stop_ , dude. To the point where you have said, and I'm quoting here, 'stop talking to your stupid internet boytoy, Stiles, I'm starting to think you like him more than me' on more than one occasion. And, guess what, you are right. I do. I _love_ him. Like burning." 

Isaac makes a face. "No, you don't. You like him. A lot. And think he's hot--"

"Because he fucking is, have you _seen_ those abs?" Stiles cuts in. "And that back and--"

"That tattoo?" Isaac speaks over him, then sighs when Stiles nods. "Yeah, I have. I know. He beautiful and has all of your kinks. And you can talk to him for hours about everything because he's not just a hot body and compatible kinks, he's smart too. I've heard the sales pitch, bro. I've heard it so many times. But, dude, you don't love him. You just... really like his internet persona, which, let's be honest, is probably not his real life one."

Stiles shakes his head again. "You don't even know, Isaac. You don't even know. This is love. True and pure, like the type they have in fairy tales. And if he didn't live, thousands of miles away from me, you would see it play out in real freaking time." 

Isaac starts to say something, but the laptop dings and Stiles holds up a hand as he turns back to it. "Whatever you are thinking, save it, dude," he says, "my future adopted babies' Daddy needs my attention."

"You've got a problem," Isaac tells him. Stiles says nothing in response. He's too busy reading theDomlyDom's thoughts on Bedevilled to deal with Isaac's hate-on right now.

***

theDomlyDom is pretty much Stiles' perfect man: smart, articulate, and totally kinky. 

The right kind of kinky. 

_Stiles's_ kind of kinky.

Which means he likes power exchange and impact play and has this beautiful blue rope that he uses to make fucking masterpieces. He is interested in electric play and has started using sounds lately, which Stiles had never been that into until theDomlyDom posted a video of him doing it to himself and wow. Stiles likey. Stiles likey a lot. To the point where the video has been open in his browser on his laptop, desktop, and phone ever since it was posted. 

He’s not really a switch, which would be a problem seeing as how Stiles is totally a Dom too, but he’s expressed an active interest in Dom on Dom play that Stiles’s most definitely approves of and has said some things about his experiences in that area that may have starred in more than a few of Stiles’s personal fantasies. 

He's only a few years older than Stiles, but has been in the life less time-- his personal journey started at out bad with an older woman introducing him to kink, which he loved, and then trying to kill him, which he didn't love and which kept him away from the kink community for years -- until he realized that by letting her keep him from expressing who he truly was a sexual person, he was letting her win. So even though he's thirty-three to Stiles's twenty-seven, he's only got about three years of experience to Stiles's nine. But still, even as a relative newbie he's got skills. Skills that Stiles would love to have demonstrated on him, okay?

Best of all, he's a prolific writer whose posts are super interesting, filled with deep thought, clever observations, dry humor, and snark. Point of fact, they are what first caught Stiles attention when he saw them pop up in his friends feed on Fet. Stiles tore his way through about twenty of them before he even bothered to click on theDomlyDom's pictures. So he can honestly say that, while the man is fine as fuck, it was always his brain that Stiles's liked first. 

But, wow. 

The man is _beautiful_. Chiseled body, handsome face, and a jaw that looks just as good clean shaven as it does is a full beard. And little bunny teeth. Yeah, he's got that too. 

And Stiles finds it too freaking adorable for words. Because here's this absolutely stereotypical masculine man with this scowly default expression that's got these itty bitty rabbit teeth and peanut ears and totally transforms into sunshine and rainbows when he smiles and talks about his subs because he's just... Perfect. Perfect in every way and thinks that Stiles is pretty damn awesome too, for some reason, and they talk all the time and Stiles is one percent for reals in love with him, okay?

Which sucks about as much as anything can suck because theDomlyDom is not local. Not even close.

Because Stiles is living the life in San Francisco and theDomlyDom is in New York City and yeah. That's a problem. Because, like previously stated, Stiles is _in love_.

And not just the sexual kind. Oh no. It's way more than that.

It's the wanna snuggle up next to you on a couch and watch movies with you and listen to you talk about your crappy day and laugh at your stupid jokes kind of love. 

And that's...

That's a problem. 

Isaac got that much right, at least. 

A major problem, actually. One that's got him contemplating buying a ticket to New York City and seeing what happens. Which... yeah. 

Big. Problem. 

One that Stiles is not going to think about right now, no matter that he’s also got a tab open showing current airfare costs from SFO to JFK. 

***

Stiles is midway through his morning reports when his office phone rings. He glances over at it, and then hits answer. “Scott, my man,” he says, turning back to his computer. “What’s happening, bro?”

"Why do I have to hear from Isaac that you are in love with that guy from New York?" Scott asks, his voice tinny over the speaker on Stiles's office phone. 

Stiles pauses at that, glancing back at the phone a little incredulously. “Okay seriously? Isaac has such a big mouth,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?”

"Because you don't live in my apartment anymore," Stiles says, making an effort to raise his voice loud enough to be caught by the mic he refocuses on his monitors, clicking on the macro button in Excel. He picks the macro he needs to run from the list offered and then sits back, hands coming to rest behind his head. "Totally your fault."

Scott makes an aggrieved sound. "Dude, I moved, like, a mile away."

"It's one point three nine miles, Scott. Get it right."

"Fine, a mile and a half. Not important. What's important is you telling Isaac you are in love with your New York hottie and not me."

Stiles debates pointing out that one point three nine miles in not a mile and half any more than it is a mile, but decides to let it go in favor of the bigger picture. "Didn't tell him, either, be tee dubs. I had an epiphany and he just happened to be in the room to overhear it, is all. And as to why he was in the room to overhear it, well. That’s what happens with you share a living space with someone. They hear things as they happen, not, you know, whenever they next happen to call you. Anyway, I would think you would be use to getting info about me second hand from Isaac. It’s been five years, after all, since you abandoned me to go live in happy poly land with Allison and Kira."

"Stiles," Scott says, his voice a long drawn out sigh, "I moved less than two miles away from you. I did it on purpose. And suffered much grumbling from two unhappy girlfriends over it because there are much better places available for less cost in much more family friendly areas, dude. And I've stayed there for five years, despite the fact that Allison and Kira are _right_ and we could totally have a house in Emeryville for the price of what we are paying here."

"Yeah, but then you would be living in Emeryville," Stiles says as he selects refresh all from the pivot table drop down list.

Scott makes a sound that sorta reminds Stiles of a cow dying. "Oh my god, shut up about my housing situation. Tell me about this epiphany you had about Mister No Name."

"He has a name."

"theDomlyDom is not a name, Stiles, it's an internet handle."

Stiles starts clicking through the tabs on his worksheet, making sure everything looks right. "I call him the Dee. You know this. You think it's funny."

Scott laughs. "Yeah, I totally do, but it's still not a name."

"What about Dee-Dee? Deedidums?" Stiles finishes double checking his work, then opens a new email. He types in the names of the people who receive this report and then starts to copy and paste tables into the body. "Do those work?"

There is another long, drawn out sigh. "Dude," Scott says, and Stiles takes pity on him.

"Okay, okay, I'm working on the name thing, I swear. And I do love him, internet personality or not. I don't care what mister negative outlook also known as Isaac says about it. He's," Stiles trails off, gaze moving from his work monitors to the city scape outside of his office window. "He's everything I want," he says softly as he watches the cars moving below.

"I know," Scott says, and he doesn't sound exasperated either, which is fairly atypical when it comes to Stiles's friends reactions to his not-relationship with theDomlyDom. "I know you like him a lot and are pretty in sync with him as far as thoughts and opinions go. I know you've been talking to him about just about everything for, god, a year now because it's nearly Halloween and last year you told me that you and he had a long distance pumpkin carve off and I'm pretty sure that anyone who talks to someone as much as you talk to him without getting pissed off or bored or whatever totally knows the other person. And," Scott pauses, then makes a determined sound. "And I think he's perfect for you, actually. So does Allison. Kira's a little torn. She says it's a big jump from online friends to online boyfriends, but you know how Kira is."

"Yeah, I know," Stiles says reflexively, then what Scott says actually penetrates his brain. "I mean, wait, what?"

"We think you should meet him," Scott says like that's the most natural thing on the planet. "Well, I mean, find out his name first. You can't rightly fly to New York and show up on his door and say 'hey there, theDomlyDom, I'm ready for my date' or anything."

Stiles snorts out a laugh. "I'm ready for my date? More like, take me now you hunk-a-hunk of burning love. Or, actually, I'm ready for you to tie me up now, Deedidums, and after that how about you break out those sounds and your tens unit and we'll see who's the domliest dom of them all."

"Oh my god," Scott sounds both amused and repulsed at the same time, "I told you, sounds are such a hard limit. No talk about sounds. Bad Stiles, bad!" 

Stiles laughs so hard his stomach hurts. “Dude, you are the best,” he says when he’s caught his breath. “But I totally need to work and you are not at all helping with that.”

“Right, right. I got to go anyway. Just, you know, think about it. The meeting him thing. Okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I will,” Stiles says, scrolling down the email one final time to make sure everything looks right. 

“And, seriously, do something about the lack of a name.”

“Fuck off.”

Scott laughs. “Love you too,” he says, then the line goes dead. 

“Interfering asshole,” Stiles says to himself a second before he clicks the send button on his email. 

***

It’s been a week since Stiles had his moment of epiphany. A week of late night chats and silly snaps and watching a couple horror movies on Netflix together, exchanging commentary throughout and then hotly debating the deeper meaning of the films after. A pretty awesome week, actually, which only cements Stiles’s belief that they are em-eff-ee-oh in a big, big way. 

All that needs to happen is, well, him manning up a bit and taking it to the next level. Which would be totally easy if it wasn’t so fucking terrifying because what if Stiles is all “yo, hearts you lots bb” and theDomlyDom goes “no romo” back? What then?

Stiles know what then: pain and agony and heartbreak and embarrassment and Stiles wallowing in a blanket burrito for a month of Sundays. 

And no one wants that. 

But…

But being a chicken shit isn’t going to do him any favors either because he’s totally into theDomlyDom and he wants to see if there could be more to them than just friendship in a major way. And the only way to know if theDomlyDom feels the same spark Stiles does is to ask him. 

But… 

But asking him about being internet boyfriends is kinda ridiculous when Stiles _still_ doesn’t know his name. Stiles can’t be all “yeah, I was totally talking to my boyfriend, theDomlyDom, and he said” and not expect to get the most baffled, pitying, judgemental looks on the planet. So asking for his name. That’s a thing. 

A thing Stiles is trying, real hard, to do.

He sighs. It shouldn’t even be this hard. It really shouldn’t. But… well. Okay, so Stiles sorta tried to ask for his name ages ago, right after they met, when they still only talked to each other on Fet through PMs and the crappy Fet messenger and theDomlyDom had given him a flat no. Said something about them not knowing each other well enough for that yet.

Stiles understood it, of course he had, but still. It had really sucked to ask and be refused. So he decided he wouldn’t ask again. Would wait for theDomlyDom to give it to Stiles on his own. But… well. That had never happened. 

And Stiles would be lying if he said he was okay with that. 

So he’s going to change it.

Really.

He is.

Stiles bites at his lip as his finger hovers over the enter key, eyes locked on the _what's your name? your real name?_ he's typed in. Stiles sucks in a breath through his nose. He can do this. He can totally do this. He's not going to punk out like he did the last five times. He's going to ask theDomlyDom for his name. They've reached that point. Like, so reached it. Should have exchanged real names months ago levels of reached it. 

He's going to do it. Watch him. He's going to hit enter and then theDomlyDom is going to be all "oh, yeah, my name it totally Joseph" except not because that's not how theDomlyDom talks at all. It will be like "My name is Joseph, didn't I say so already?" and then Stiles will type "*laughs* NO, but it's cool, I'm Stiles btw" and they will keep on keeping on and everything will be dandy. 

It's not a big deal. It's not. 

He's just...

Fuck.

Stiles sucks in another breath through his nose, closes his eyes and hits enter. 

Oh god. 

He's done it. He's done it, and there's no taking it back. 

Stiles opens his eyes and stares at his screen, waiting for theDomlyDom's response. 

He waits. 

And waits. 

And waits some more. 

After thirty minutes of waiting, Stiles gives up.

theDomlyDom isn't answering. And he _always_ answers. Like, right away. And the messages were seen, it says so on the screen. So it's not like theDomlyDom just hadn't got them yet. He totally did. And he's not answering. 

So... yeah.

That sucks.

Stiles shuts the browser window and pushes away from his desk feeling like absolute shit. They aren't friends. Not really. Even though they talk hours of the day about everything under the sun, they aren't _really_ friends. They don't _really_ know each other. They are just internet friends. And Stiles is just being stupid for thinking they would ever be anything more than that.

***

Stiles keeps Viber closed on his computer the rest of the day and doesn’t look at it on his phone either until Lydia texts him the following afternoon while he’s on his way to Scott’s for their bimonthly besties date to ask when he’s going to bother to reply to her messages. Which, okay, it was kinda shitty of him to just disconnect from his primary means of communicating with all of his far off friends. But, dude, it’s not like Stiles was capable to thinking rationally in the face of his epic fail where theDomlyDom was concerned. 

He sighs and taps the home icon in his screen, dread pooling in his stomach as he looks at the Viber icon. He contemplates asking Lydia to just send him the question via text, but he knows that she’ll just want to ask why he can’t read the message she already sent him and he’ll have to explain that he doesn’t want to see that theDomlyDom hasn’t replied or, worse yet, has replied with some politely worded message about how they weren’t that kind of friend and have to deal with either her sympathy or her disdain

Besides, it’s not that big of a deal or anything. It’s just an online friendship. It’s just… 

Damn it. 

Stiles taps on the little purple phone and winces with it instantly displays his last chat with theDomlyDom with the words “unread messages” hovering ominously over the bottom of the screen. 

Stiles groans, but hits the text and watches as the app scrolls down. 

**theDomlyDom:** My real name? Derek.  
 **theDomlyDom:** I thought I told you that. I thought that's why you kept calling me Dee  
 **theDomlyDom:** ...   
**theDomlyDom:** you called me "the Dee" as a dick joke, didn't you  
 **theDomlyDom:** asshole  
 **theDomlyDom:** Hey, no worries about the Dee thing. I'm not pissed, I swear  
 **theDomlyDom:** Stiles?  
 **theDomlyDom:** Work keeping you busy?  
 **theDomlyDom:** Must be, I've never gone this long without a message from you before.  
 **theDomlyDom:** Hit me up when you are free, I want to tell you about this guy I saw on the subway.  
 **theDomlyDom:** God, two days in a row without you is just not fair.  
 **theDomlyDom:** I’m SO bored.   
**theDomlyDom:** No more long hours for you. I'm DYING over here. 

“Oh my god, what an idiot. Of course it was a penis joke,” Stiles says, as a wave of relief washes over him. “I can’t believe he didn’t get it.”

He quickly types back as much in reply, and grins when _Derek_ instantly responds with a picture of a cat sticking it’s tongue out over the words ‘you suck.” . 

_Well, yeah._ Stiles grins as he types. _It’s totally party of my charm. I thought you knew this, bro._

***

"His name is _Derek_ ," Stiles says proudly when Scott answers his door. 

Scott gives him a big smile. "Congrats on taking a level in internet crushing, dude. Also, I hope you are hungry because Allison is cooking up a feast and Kira said she was going to swing by Sweet Inspiration on the way home so you know desert is going to be off the hook."

Stiles pretends to drool as he walks into the entryway. "Ohhhh my god. That sounds amazing. And, also, your place smells amazing. You totally won the girlfriends lottery. You know that, right?"

"Yup, totally did." Scott closes the door and locks it, then heads towards the living room. "I just need to finish up a little something and then I'll be with you. Feel free to grab something to drink. You know where everything is."

"Sure, I'll hang with Allision some. Get some one on one time with her without you butting in all unwanted." Scott laughs and Stiles grins to himself as he walks into the kitchen. "And how's my favorite kick ass arms dealer today?" he asks.

Allison blows her bangs out of her eyes and gives him a quick smile. "Great! Had the afternoon off unexpectedly so I thought I'd do something special tonight. Hope you like pumpkin ravioli, because tis the season."

Stiles nods eagerly. "Oh, dude, I know. It's Halloween so that means pumpkin everything and damn if I don't love it." He watches her stir a pot filled with creamy looking sauce for a moment, then asks, "Anything I can do to help?" 

She glances over at the counter, where a reusable Whole Foods bag is sitting, her eyes narrowing a bit. "Garlic bread or salad, your pick."

"Ensalada. I've got mad knife skills." Stiles heads to the counter and starts unloading the bag. "Anything in here that's not part of the salad?"

Allison shakes her head. "Nope. All the veggies are a go. Have at it."

“Aye, aye, captain. Full speed ahead."

"You are ridiculous," Allison tells him fondly. "So, what's this I hear about you taking a level with that internet guy?"

Stiles lets out an easy laugh. "It's really not that big of a deal," he says. "Um, he just told me his name. And where he works. And a bunch of other personal details. He said he wasn't holding out on purpose or anything, he totally trusts me. He just was more focused on all of our awesome conversations than on boring real life details."

"That's awesome," Allison replies. 

Stiles feels a dopey smile spread across his face. "Yeah," he says, "yeah, it is. Really awesome."

"What's awesome?" Scott asks, coming into the kitchen. 

"Derek," Stiles replies, then swats at Scott's hand as he tries to steal a piece of cucumber. "Hey, no. Bad Scott." 

"Come on, I'm hungry," Scott whines, giving Stiles the same sad, pitiful look he's been giving Stiles since kindergarten. 

Stiles lets out a long, drawn out sigh. "What have I told you about the puppy dog eyes?" he asks as he hands over a chunk of cucumber. 

"Sweet!" Scott gobbles it down then snags another before he moves over to Allison. 

"Don't even think about it," she says, fending off his attempts to get a taste of her cream sauce. 

Scott nuzzles into her neck. "Baby," he starts, but Allison cuts him off with a firm "no" and then a gentle kiss on the cheek. 

"Make yourself useful," she tells him, and then points in the direction on the garlic bread. 

Scott lets out a little huff, but goes to the counter easily enough. "So," he says as he deftly slices into the loaf of french bread, "tell me what _Derek's_ done that deserves to be called awesome."

Stiles feels his face go dopey again. "What hasn't he done?" He gives a little laugh. "Dude, last night he spent three hours sending me links to different types of earthships. Earthships! You guys know how big of a hardon I have for earthships."

"Because they are so environmentally conscious and sustainable and cool as fuck," Scotts replies with a nod, once again earning his Best Friend of All Time Ever title. 

"Yup." Stiles beams at him. "Anyway, he sends me all these links, one right after another, to every kind of earthship imaginable and ends it up with a YouTube link that is this segment on this ridiculously cool earthship that got built in England because, you know, why not? And I teased him about it after I watched it and told him to tag his porn, because it was some seriously earthship porn, and he," Stiles trails off with a blush. 

"Oh, don't stop there," Allison teases. "It was just starting to get good."

Scott laughs and Stiles blushes some more, ducking his head to focus on the carrot he's chopping. "Erm, anyway, earthship porn turned into talk of other types of porn and it's entirely possible I sent him a link to that video I made of me doing some hardcore orgasm denial while sucking one of my subs and it's also possible that he sent me back a link to a video of him, um, enjoying the video I sent him and yeah. That happened. Oh my god, that _happened_." Stiles lets out a half laugh. "I don't even know how to process that, actually."

"That's a good sign," Scott says. "A really good sign. I mean, he's shown you his dick. And he obviously was into what you sent. So, yeah. Good."

Allison makes an agreeing sound. "I have to concur. And, also, I have to ask what he's got going on in his pants." Scott yelps at that and Allison laughs. "Oh, come on, you've seen him. You gotta want to know if the bottom is as good as the top."

"Totally heterosexual over here," Scott points out, "but yeah. Yeah, I totally kinda do."

Stiles finishes the last of the veggies and starts adding them to the salad bowl. "Um, not going to show you because that's all sorts of a consent violation, but..." He bites his lip and then smiles. "Yeah. It's good. It's all good."

"Get it," Allison says with a laugh while Scott wolf whistles. 

Stiles gives a little shrug. "Don't I wish."

"Why just wish? Why not make it happen?" Scott's face is earnest when Stiles turns to look at him, like he actually believes that's possible. 

Of course he believes it's possible. He's _Scott_. And fairy tales do come true as far as Scott is concerned. 

"Um," Stiles says, trying not to let his _we aren't all you, we don't all get the picture perfect ending_ show on his face. He must not succeed because Scott sighs and gives Stiles one of his _you just gotta believe_ looks. "No, don't give a pep talk," Stile warns. "Not right now. I'm totally on a high right now. I don't need a pep talk."

"You totally do," Scott insists as he puts the garlic bread into the oven to cook, "if you aren't going to, you know, make a move. The man likes you. It's super obvious. He made a post yesterday and he referenced you as 'one of my good friends' and everything."

"Yeah. He did. Called me his good _friend._ " Stiles drizzles dressing over the salad and tosses it a little more vigorously than called for. 

Scott shuts the oven with a frown. "Well, what else was he supposed to say? You aren't boyfriends yet."

Stiles makes a face. "We aren't boyfriends period." 

"But you could be." Scott smiles at him like he just managed to solve world hunger and it makes Stiles want to snarl because _no_. It's not easy. 

"No, Scott, we couldn't," he says with a scowl.

"Um, not to ruin the best friend stand off or anything," Allison interjects, "but both of you have a point. Scott, it's not as simple as saying that he likes Derek. Not with the distance involved. Both of them have to think about more than just how much they like each other."

"Thank you," Stiles says. 

Allison holds up a hand. "Save your thank you for after I'm done," she tells him, "because you probably don't want to hear me tell you that Scott is right too. There is a good chance that you and Derek could be boyfriends, you both genuinely enjoy each other's company. And long distance relationships are not at all uncommon a thing."

Stiles opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. 

"Hello?" Kira calls out. "Where is everybody?"

"In the kitchen," Allison responds, turning the heat off and giving the sauce one final stir. "And you're just in time to eat."

***

It's not like he hasn't thought about it. He has. oh, god, he has. Stiles has thought _all_ about it. 

All the ways it could happen, all the possible futures they could have. 

The one where they try and it's brilliant and they find a way to be together and everything is a dream, which, honestly, is very unlikely to happen. 

The one where they try and it's good but it's not great so they let it go and stay friends. 

The one where they don't try and can't stay friends. 

The one where they don't try and pretend to be friends and it festers between them until there's nothing left of their friendship but long, empty silences punctuated by flutters of "oh, hey man, you're still alive." That's the one that Stiles dreads.

That's the one that's most likely to happen. 

And that's why Stiles just lets thing lie. Because, come on, Derek's everything a good Dom should be. Smart, strong, capable. Resourceful as fuck. Inventive. Sexy. Kind. Personable. God, just, you know, all the good things in the world.

And Stiles... isn't even a sub. He's another Dom. Which, okay, Dom on Dom is hot and enjoyable but is it enough to sustain a relationship? You never hear about pure Dom on Dom pairings. Not without it being a poly thing where each have their own sub or share a sub or whatever. And that's not really what Stiles wants. 

He's tried poly a time or two, enough to know that it's not for him. And he's tried bottoming and even subbing and no. He's not a sub. He can't submit the way he's supposed to. 

Sure, there's not universal truth where subs are concerned, there are a million and one ways to submit, but none of them appeal. None of them are compatible with Stiles's core needs. 

He's a Dom with a masochistic streak a mile wide who likes to bruise and bruised in return. 

Which is perfectly fine and well and good every now and then, but not really what any other Dom wants on a regular basis. Every time he's tried it in the past, it's always turned into a case of the other Dom talking big about wanting that beautiful Dom on Dom interaction and then getting frustrated when Stiles doesn't magically turn into a good little sub after the first couple of times playing together. 

Which, look, Stiles _gets_ it. He does. And he’s wished he could be a good little sub. Well, alright, a strong, in your face sub who bows their head only to those that have earned their submission. A kick your teeth in if you fuck with ‘em sub. A sub like Lydia, who is so fucking competent in her daily life and yet craves the release of submission. But he’s not. He’s a Dom through and through. 

He can’t be something he’s not. And what he is tends to disappoint in the long term. Big time.

Stiles doesn't want that. Not with anyone and especially not with Derek. 

So why bother upsetting things? Why bother trying for something that will never work in the long run?

Stiles just... needs to move on. Needs to be happy being friends and stop wanting things that are as far away as the moon and as impossible to touch as the stars.

***

"Alright, enough is enough," Lydia says mid-way through their weekly Skype session four days later. "I've had it with your moping face. You are coming out here to visit me. You are going to meet up with that man. And you are going to know, once and for all, if this person you've been fixated on for the better part of a year is worth all the fuss you've been making."

Stiles's mouth drops open in that unattractive why that it does when he's confused and a little turned on. "What?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "You heard what I said, Stilinski. Don't pretend like you didn't. Now, navigate over to that tab with flight info from San Francisco to New York I know you've got open and book yourself a flight. we both know you can afford it. And don't bleat about vacation time either, we both know you slave like a dog at the job and haven't had a proper vacation in going on two years."

"I hate you," Stiles says, because he's a grown up, mature adult and handles crisis with poise and grace. 

Lydia doesn't snort, but the way she purses her lips conveys the desire to effectively. "Just buy the ticket," she says, then ends the call.

"What even is my life?" Stiles asks, his hand hovering over the mouse. "When did I lose control of this situation? Like, really, when?" His hand twitches in the direction of the Viber icon and he lets go of the mouse with a start. "Did I really just get the urge to ask _Derek_ if I should take Lydia up on her offer to come visit her in New York as a stealthy reason to be near enough to _Derek_ to ask him to meet up? Did I _really_ just want to do that? Oh my god. _What even is my life?_ " 

He pushes back from the desk, scrubs his fingers through his hair and tries not to panic by focusing on his breathing instead of his stupid, stupid ideas and utter lack of control where inappropriate emotional attachments are concerned. 

He's not sure how long he sits there, breathing slowly in and out, before his phone buzzes to let him know he has a new text, but he has a feeling it's probably a good long while. His feeling is confirmed when he wakes up his phone and sees the text Lydia sent. 

_Ticket booked on your behalf. Info should hit your inbox shortly. No need to thank me._

Well fuck.

***

_So... I'm going to be in New York_

No. Stiles hits the backspace key. Not like that. Maybe...

_Lydia invited me out to visit._

Yeah, that works. He hits send and waits for a response.

**theDomlyDom:** Oh, cool. I know you miss her.

_Yeah._ Stiles types. _She's a chunk of awesome I need more of in my life._

**theDomlyDom:** *laughs*   
**theDomlyDom:** She's the one that's a lawyer, right? 

Stiles's nods, nerves building. _Yup_ he confirms.

**theDomlyDom:** I thought so.   
**theDomlyDom:** And she lives in NYC too, right?

Stiles hands clench into fists and he bites down hard on his lip before typing. _Yeah, she lives on the Upper East Side. She says it's a good part of town? Idk, I've only been there once before and all I really remember is that it is by this awesome Ramen shop and, like, less than a block from a subway stop._

**theDomlyDom:** *laughs*  
 **theDomlyDom:** Sounds like a good spot.

_Yeah, it is_ , Stiles replies.

The screen stays blank for an ominously long time. The words _theDomlyDom is typing_ flash on the screen. Then disappear. Then appear again. 

Stiles chews on his lip, determined not to be the one to reply first. He gnaws it nearly raw before he gets a response.

**theDomlyDom:** We should meet up, if you want. I mean, no pressures or anything, but I'd really like to meet up. You're one of my best friends and I'd love to get a chance to talk to you face to face.

Stiles pushes back from his desk and flails a bit because **yes!**

Yes he wants to meet up with Derek and be in the same place as Derek and listen to Derek talk and see how Derek’s eyes crinkle up in the corners and know what he smells like and kiss him and be held down by him and oh god.

Oh god. 

He wants everything. 

And Derek want to be _friends_.

Stiles closes his eyes and nods. 

Because that's what they are. 

Friends.

He sucks in a breath and tells himself it's stupid to be disappointed. 

_Sure_ he types back. Then, because he's a complete chicken shit. We'll work it out later, okay? I've got to call it a night

He hits enter and then closes out the window before Derek has a chance to respond, shutting his laptop with a decided thud.

_Friends_. 

It's never going to be more than that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most obvious self-fulfillment fantasy ever written. Sorry, not sorry.


End file.
